Calamity
by Neocolai
Summary: He never meant it. It was an accident. When his master is injured in a training mishap, Caleb Dume is certain he is destined for the dark side. Oneshot.


Special Commission for Spector 8, who has contributed many creative stories to the Star Wars: Rebels fandom, and needed a reminder that her work is appreciated. :)

Disclaimer: Neocolai does not own Star Wars: Rebels or anything associated with the Star Wars universe.

Pre-Order 66. Caleb is 13.

* * *

"Focus, Caleb!"

Caleb Dume spun awkwardly on one toe, his lightsaber barely grazing the oncoming plasma bolt. A second bolt twinged his side and he stumbled, too-long legs catching up with gangly arms and unbalanced feet. A flounder of arms, another zipping plasma bolt, and the padawan splatted onto his rear in a doleful, indignant heap.

Depa folded her arms, tapping her fingers amusedly. "Screaming like a three-year-old is not the Jedi way."

"You say we would be sparring!" Caleb protested. "How can I fight you while I'm blocking the remote droids?"

"A Jedi must be prepared to fight amidst many distractions. Again, Caleb."

Rubbing his sore bohunkus, Caleb lifted his saber and shifted his feet, eyeing the remote droids. Depa flipped her lightsaber forward, spreading one hand.

"Begin."

Plasma bolts careened from all sides. Master Depa's lightsaber was a green coil, darting between Caleb's strikes and zapping his arms with low static.

"Concentrate!" she shouted.

 _I'm trying!_ Caleb jolted as another plasma bolt sniped his leg. Another remote droid took advantage and spiraled downwards, tiny red darts pelting the padawan's shoulders.

 _Leave me alone!_ Caleb's heels caught on his robe and he flung out one hand instinctively, yelping as the walls spun into the ceiling and his back struck the floor. Frustration convalesced, swarmed inside, and suddenly exploded from his upraised hand. The force surged against the overhead units and wires split in a gush of red sparks.

"Caleb!" Depa shouted. She sensed it before Caleb saw the straining cables; heard the groan of ruptured metal; realized _move, move! Move!_

Depa's hand yanked his collar, hurling him across the floor even while she braced her other arm to hold off the cooling unit. The force whipped around her; catching the weighted metal; giving her time to run…

"Master!"

One second too late, Depa leapt.

The cooling unit smashed into the floor, durasteel plates crushing remote droids and cracking the stone tiles. A heavy coil burst free and snagged Depa's ankle, and pain spliced Caleb's bond. He cried out with his master, helpless as she slid headlong and rolled into a pillar.

"Master Depa!"Caleb scrambled to her side, hands splayed uncertainly. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't –" _I didn't think I could lose control like that!_

Depa groaned and shifted, wrapping a hand around her ankle. "Caleb, send for Master Che," she said between clenched teeth.

"Master Depa, I –"

"Go!"

Caleb ran. Past Jedi knights who voiced their concerns, past masters who sensed his cause for alarm. Impetuous, pestering, excitable Dume had no doubt singed his master's eyebrows again, too focused on the thrill of his own lightsaber to realize the velocity of his emotions.

"Hm. Again for Master Che he runs," Yoda grunted. "Much compassion have I for Depa."

"I pity the healer," Mace Windu retorted.

"Master Che! Master Che!" Caleb exclaimed as he slid into the Halls of Healing. "Please, you've got to come at once! It's Master Depa – she's hurt – the cooling unit fell on her – it's all my fault – I think she's dying – I know it's my fault, I'll never –"

"Calm down, Padawan Dume," Vokara Che ordered, shooing him away from the occupied beds. "Lower your voice. I have a Jedi team from Rishi who are half comatose from mine blasts. Now speak slowly, child."

"It's Master Depa!" Caleb repeated. "She's hurt! I didn't mean to – the cooling unit fell, and she pushed me out of the way. I think she broke her leg."

Master Che rolled her eyes. "Dume, the horrors you put your master though… alright, lead the way."

Caleb ran ahead of her, darting back every few steps, urging her to hurry. Master Che's dignified stride chaffed at him, until he forsook the older Jedi and pelted back to the training room.

"Master Depa! I brought Master Che – you'll be all right!"

"Yes, I know," Depa said, waving Caleb away. She was resting against the pillar, swollen ankle crooked in front of her. "By the force, Caleb, it's only my leg. Will you rest yourself a moment?"

Too agitated to sit, Caleb paced until Master Che appeared. "Master –"

"Yes, I know," Che said briskly. "Bruised ankle and twisted ligaments. Anything worse and she would be clamoring for my attention. She's not dying, Dume."

"But Master –"

"Out! Shoo! Go haunt the refectory servers. Find yourself some sweet atrocity. Your master will be fine."

"Go on, Caleb," Depa urged, patting his forearm. "Stop hounding Master Che. This won't take long."

"But…." Devastated, Caleb slunk from the room. Dismissed. Chased out before he could apologize. _I didn't mean to hurt you, I swear!_

One wayward sweep of the force. One horrible mistake.

 _Is this why Master Yoda warns us about the dark side? Am I falling?_

Distressed at the thought, Caleb slunk beneath one of the Temple staircases. _How long before a severed coolant becomes a pulverized droid? A hurt padawan?_ He'd already injured his own master. _Am I becoming a Sith? Is there no way back for me? Could I kill someone?_

Caleb pillowed his chin on his arms, nausea congesting his throat. _Force, that's why they kicked me out of the room. They know I reacted in the force and wounded Master Depa. Any minute they'll escort me below the Temple and lock me away where I can never hurt anyone –_

"Hey, you feeling sick or something?"

Caleb yelped at the intrusion and twisted away. Immediately he remembered Master Depa's words. _"Screaming like a three-year-old is not the Jedi way."_

He would never hear her jest again.

"Um… you don't look so good." Lekku swinging, Padawan Kaliey crouched beside him. "Are you sick?"

"No… I'm just…." _Evil. Unpredictable. Sith lord in training._ "You should probably go – I'm dangerous."

Brown eyes widened theatrically. "What'd you break this time?"

 _My master…_ "A cooling unit," Caleb mumbled.

"Really? Cause I flipped out Master Skywalker by throwing a crate at his head when I first saw him." Kaliey flounced beside Caleb, slurping what looked like muja juice. Reddish drops splattered her skin and she irritably brushed them away. "Hate this stuff when it gets on my lekku… you know how hard it is to get stains off blue skin? No, of course not – you're humanoid – why do I bother asking?"

She was trying to get him to laugh – as though the image of flinging crates at the "Hero With No Fear" wasn't alarming enough. Then again, Kaliey had been Sith-spawn before she had been brought to the Temple. Lucky for her, Master Skywalker had an odd habit of picking up strays. And ornery droids. And ruined spacecraft.

"Are you thinking funky things about me again?" Kaliey accused, jabbing Caleb with her elbow. She crossed her eyes and blew bubbles through her straw.

"Why do you think this is funny?" Caleb lashed out before he could think. Kaliey spiraled backwards, muja juice splattering them both. Agitatedly she flicked red syrup off her hands.

"Caleb!"

"Force, I'm sorry!" He'd done it again. Why couldn't he control himself? _Focus! Concentrate! You're a Jedi!_

"Caleb Dume, so help me you're hand-washing this tunic! I'm telling Master Windu that – Hey, you okay?" Kaliey exhaled sharply, sensing the ripple of despair. "Hey, I didn't mean it, Caleb. I'm not angry with you – honest! Here – let me clean this up. Don't tell Master Yoda I lost my temper, please?"

"It's not you," Caleb said, feeling worse as Kaliey whipped off her black cloak and began mopping up the burgundy juice. "It's me."

"Huh?" Confused, Kaliey paused to wipe the droplets from her lighter teal markings.

"I'm the one at fault," Caleb said dully. "I … I hurt my master. Then I was angry with you. Maybe Master Yoda was right – maybe I can't control myself. Maybe I'm just a –"

Nervous laughter made him spin around. "Kaliey, this isn't funny!"

"No! No, you're right – I –" Kaliey eeped a giggle and forced herself to calm down. "It's not funny at all – but you're hysterical! You think you're a Sith because you lost your temper? Oh, you're such a dampa sometimes."

Stuttering, Caleb paused a moment to remember that it was Kaliey who had been rescued from the Sith; whose black robes were associated by the younglings to mean evil and not an alliteration with Master Luminara; whose rambunctious behavior was called off frequently by masters who thought she was "out of control".

"Believe me, I've seen a Sith before," Kaliey said more kindly. "You're nothing like them." She settled down again and tossed her cloak at Caleb. "Your master's going to be fine – isn't this the second time you dropped something on her?"

"Fourth," Caleb mumbled.

"And then you tripped up the entire _class_ trying to catch that mouse droid. I get off so easy when we share classes. Master Fisto never even glances at my datapad."

"I'm not that clumsy," Caleb retorted grumpily.

"Nah, you just have big feet – and my lekku get tangled in everything, so we're even." Cautiously Kaliey sipped the remaining dregs of her juice. "You owe me a muja now."

"Dume, Master Che is calling for you!" one of the older padawans called. Kaliey hissed and waved frantically, and the padawan frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be taking your exams on the Inner Rim Territories, Padawan Burnt?"

Kaliey groaned. "Can't I have one more day to study?"

"Master Yoda determines the exams, not I." The padawan ushered her out and Kaliey waved bleakly to Caleb before scampering down the hall.

"Padawan Dume?" the older padawan repeated, bending low to peer under the stairwell. "You mustn't keep Master Che waiting."

Foreboding strong enough to match Yoda's senses wound up Caleb's neck, and he wondered if he might possibly choke to death before his retribution.

* * *

"Now stop your fretting, Dume. I already told you, she's cleared from my care and has returned to her own quarters. Force, child – stop dithering and run off to her already." Master Che shook her head, retrieving new bacta patches. "Did you find your sweets? Never mind that – go terrorize your master."

Boots scuffing, Caleb trudged to Depa's room and pushed the door chime. He breathed deeply and set his shoulders. If he was doomed, so be it. He would accept exile like the Jedi he should have been.

"Enter, Caleb."

 _Goodbye, Master Fisto's Inner Rim exams._

"Master Depa, I –" Caleb stuttered and froze, his mouth watering at the sight of a ryshcate slice oozing on a plate.

"Forget your dinner again?" Master Depa hobbled into the room, ankle bound tightly, eyes twinkling. "Drop the theatrics, Caleb. You're not at fault. I took this upon myself. A Jedi should always be willing to risk herself for the sake of others."

"I'm sorry!" Caleb gushed. "If I hadn't been angry I wouldn't have –"

"Angry?" Depa coolly raised one eyebrow. "Flustered, yes. Impatient with my lessons, unquestionably. I sensed no anger, Caleb."

"But you wouldn't have been hurt if –"

"Caleb, enough." Depa smiled, force lifting the ryshcate and waggling it under her padawan's nose. "It was an accident. It will happen again – and who knows, I may be the one sending you to the Halls of Healing next time."

Mollified, Caleb grabbed the plate and tentatively bit into the cake. A crunch of vweilu nuts and he nearly forgot he was supposed to be exiled.

Depa snorted. "If I were to send my padawans away for damaging a cooling unit, there would be no Jedi left."

Sheepishly Caleb grinned. Limping forward, Depa tapped his nose and smiled.

"Let's work on that focus, shall we?"

* * *

 **Daw, Caleb is such a drama queen**. :3 I imagine he grew up a lot after Order 66….

Kaliey Burnt belongs to Spector 8. I don't usually take commissions, but after recent events this was the least I could do. Hope you enjoyed, Spector 8. :)

Now y'all go out and do something awesome for another writer! :D


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